


Echoes

by stealingpotatoes



Series: Swans and Crows [5]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, The Dreadful Wale, idk i just really like the hc that Corvo can play the guitar, not gonna lie this is lowkey just a headcanon dump w some plot lol, tis a bit messy but tis a fic nonetheless lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25630012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stealingpotatoes/pseuds/stealingpotatoes
Summary: Emily decides to make use of the Serkonan guitar she found on the Dreadful Wale, trying to remember what her father taught her.
Relationships: Corvo Attano & Emily Kaldwin
Series: Swans and Crows [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796710
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Echoes

**Author's Note:**

> Right so you know how there’s that Serkonan guitar in your room on the Dreadful Wale that [some musician left after staying on the Wale](https://dishonored.fandom.com/wiki/Goodbye,_Karnaca_-_A_Musician%27s_Farewell)? Well, recently a bunch of clips of the Last Of Us II have shown up in my recommended, and long story short I’m having some feelings about guitars now. So… [gestures vaguely at this fic].

Despite there being no windows in her cabin on the Dreadful Wale, Emily knew it sunset would be slowly beginning outside. She was sat on her bed, cleaning and sharpening her father’s sword rather purposefully, even though it didn’t really need cleaning or sharpening at all (it wasn’t like she used it for much more than deflecting). Still, her father had always told her about the importance of maintaining weapons, and she wasn’t about to stop paying attention to his training now. Plus, she didn’t want anything ruining the blade’s folding mechanism. 

Emily stood up and folded the blade as a quick check. It folded up swiftly and neatly, as it was meant to. 

It had taken her a fair few tries to get the motion of activating the fold just right when she’d first got the blade. Her father had barely let her use his sword before, so she’d just had to go off years of watching him and the very few times he’d let her try it. Though, after using it so much, she got why her father generally didn’t let anyone use his blade; it was a  _ very nice _ sword, and frankly Emily wasn’t sure if she wanted to give it back. Maybe she’d see about having one of her own made once she took back Dunwall Tower (which she  _ was _ going to do). 

Emily unfolded the sword again and dropped into a pointed fighting stance. She looked down the end of blade and her eyes caught a flash of turquoise-blue mostly hidden behind the fabric over the storage area. She tilted her head and squinted at whatever it was. 

Emily walked forward, folding the sword back up, and moved the fabric back to see a Serkonan guitar, haphazardly sitting on the bottom of the rack-thing. She picked the guitar up and inspected it, before running a hand over its smooth, painted-turquoise surface. The guitar had been in Emily’s room -- the guest cabin -- since she’d arrived on the Dreadful Wale. Apparently, the previous inhabitant of the cabin had left it there (as well as his diary, which had been an interesting-ish read). Emily had put it away somewhere to make more room on the desk not long after they’d left Dunwall, and promptly forgotten about it.

Okay,  _ partially _ to make more room. Mostly because it reminded her of her father, and she’d be attacked with the fresh memory of everything that happened in the throne room every time she thought about him too much. And that wasn’t helpful at all on the journey from Dunwall to Karnaca, during which Emily could do precisely nothing about anything, and everything made her feel more helpless and useless. 

Emily moved to sit down on her bed and put the guitar on her lap. It felt weirdly familiar in her hands, in a way Emily couldn’t quite describe properly. She plucked a few strings. It sounded like it was in tune (if she remembered what in tune sounded like). 

Emily was about to try it again when a knock on the open door startled her. She looked up to see Anton standing in the cabin’s doorway.

Emily smiled. It was good to see Anton up on his feet again. Emily wouldn’t have gone so far to say he looked completely healthy, but he certainly looked much better than when she’d first found him. Dr. Hypatia had helped him a lot while she had been on the ship, and both Emily and Meagan were incredibly thankful for how she’d helped, even if the latter hadn’t shown it all that well.

“Meagan asked me to tell you that _ ‘grub’s up’ _ ,” Anton said, with a slight funny face on that last part. 

Emily managed to stop herself from saying something about how Meagan shouldn’t have sent Anton, because he wasn’t well, instead saying, “Thank you. I’ll be there in a bit.” After a moment, she looked back down to the guitar pensively. 

“Do you know how to play at all?” Anton asked, raising an eyebrow at the guitar.

“My father taught me a little,” Emily strummed a chord as a sort of proof and glanced back up at Anton. 

“Oh,” Anton said, with some surprise. Emily wasn’t sure if the surprise was about  _ her _ playing the guitar, or her father. Maybe both. 

Emily tried a few more chords, hoping muscle memory would kick in soon, “I only remember one or two songs. I  _ think  _ they’re Serkonan folk songs.” 

“Perhaps we’ll be able to hear them later?”

Emily half-started a song, but quickly played a note wrong and winced to herself. “If I can actually remember how to play,” she said sheepishly.

There was a short silence before Anton gave her a knowing smile, “I’ll leave you to it.” 

Emily smiled back, albeit more awkwardly, “Thank you.” 

Anton closed the door a little and walked away. Emily soon heard the muffled-by-distance sound of him talking to Meagan about something. 

Emily looked down at the guitar again and began silently practicing her hand movements for the chords on the neck of the guitar, counting the steps in her head. 

“ _ Okay… _ ” Emily whispered to herself, satisfied she could more-or-less remember the song. She took a breath and started correctly playing the chords in order. 

After some moments, she quietly started singing along, every so often humming the words she couldn’t remember. 

\--

Corvo finished the song with one final strum. 

“How was that?” he asked, his hand resting on the body of the guitar. 

Emily smiled, “Good. It was really good.” 

Corvo smiled back. “If you practice, maybe we can play together,” he half-joked, gesturing to the piano Emily was seated at. 

Emily scrunched up her face in disagreement. 

She knew the only reason her father still sometimes tried to get her to practice the piano was because her mother always wanted her to, and Corvo was more or less clinging to any semblance of life before her mother’s death, even now, almost two years after the assassination. It wasn’t because playing the piano was actually something he thought she should know how to do. They both knew it was dumb and unimportant, and that Emily could definitely be doing something more useful with her time. 

But seeing as it  _ was _ something of remembering the past or whatever, it didn’t seem right that Emily stop trying to get out of practicing, because that’s what she’d always done before. So she continued to whine about it, every time-- for old times’ sake. 

Her father usually just sat there, listening to Emily’s not-very-good piano playing and writing or checking reports, or something Lord Protector-y or spymaster-y like that, and occasionally encouraging her to keep going when she dramatically stopped. 

So she’d admittedly been a little confused when her father had told her to stay put and left the drawing room Emily had been practicing in after she’d expressed a want to never play the piano again, only to come back holding an old-looking and bare wooden Serkonan guitar. 

But the confusion quickly turned to pleasant surprise when Corvo had asked if Emily wanted to hear something on the guitar. She had obviously said yes, 

And well... she’d forgotten how good he was- at both the guitar and singing. It wasn’t as if he had the best singing voice ever, but it most certainly wasn’t bad. It was low and comforting, and the way his hands moved along the guitar, with the same deftness with which he fought, was nice to watch. 

The last time she remembered him playing for her was years ago, (though Emily realised he  _ must _ have practiced since then). Though, she was fairly sure she remembered overhearing him play for her mother on the nights Emily snuck out of her room to secretly listen to them. That felt like a forever ago.

“How long  _ have  _ you had that?” Emily asked. 

Corvo looked down at the guitar with a somewhat sad smile. “Since I left Karnaca... it was my father’s, but my mother gave it to me as a parting gift when I was sent off.” He looked back up to Emily. 

Emily nodded slowly. She knew precious little about Corvo’s family before her and her mother. He’d happily tell her all about Serkonos if she asked, but he’d always get somewhat cagey when talking about his family in Karnaca. He wouldn’t directly say ‘no’, instead he’d subtly and swiftly change the subject. And whenever he did, Emily always found herself fighting off the urge to remind her father that they were technically her family too, so she deserved to know about them. 

“I used to play to get you to sleep, you know,” Corvo said. 

Emily tried to ignore the fact he’d just changed the subject like he always did and tilted her head, “I don’t remember that.” 

Corvo gave her a little smile-huff, “You wouldn’t; it was when you were very small. The music always got you to sleep, no matter how fussy you were being that night,” he said with a smile. Emily then guessed that he started thinking about her mother, because he suddenly adopted that uniquely distant expression he only ever had when talking about memories with her. 

Emily stared at the guitar on her father’s lap for a few moments before deciding to speak again, “So did your father teach you? If it was his guitar…” 

Corvo gave Emily a small nod, coming out of his thoughts. “Uh- a little. I learnt most of what I know from various other people though,” Corvo said, gesturing slightly with his wrist still resting on the guitar’s body. 

“Can you teach me to play? Please?” Emily asked. 

Corvo huffed amusedly and furrowed his brow with a smile, “What happened to  _ ‘I hate music’ _ ?”

“I changed my mind.”

Corvo smirked, “That’s good. I was worried Your Majesty would order an Imperial ban on all music-playing.”

Emily giggled.

After a moment, Corvo looked between the guitar and Emily, “I don’t know how good a teacher I’ll be, but I can try to show you.” He made a slight ‘come here’ gesture, and Emily grinned with excitement as she quickly hopped off the piano seat to sit next to her father, ready to learn. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Also I drew [Corvo playing his guitar to Emily over on my tumblr](https://stealingpotatoes.tumblr.com/post/624985230739144704/i-really-like-the-hc-that-corvo-can-play-the)... just thought I’d let you know that…


End file.
